


Fit

by Grey (grey853)



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: AU, Alternate Universes, Angst, Drama, First Times, M/M, Other: See Story Notes, Series, h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 06:43:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/795020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grey853/pseuds/Grey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After private security guard Jim Ellison is shot, he and 16-year-old Blair overcome several obstacles to be together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fit

## Fit

by Grey

Blair is only 16, but all sex is consensual.

* * *

Title: Fit  
Author: Grey  
Fandom: TS  
Pairing: J/B  
Rating: NC-17  
Status: New/Complete  
Archive: Yes to everyone except 852 Prospect Adult Archive Email: Grey853@aol.com  
Series/Sequel: Maybe  
Date: May 2000  


Disclaimer: Not mine. 

Summary: After Jim is shot, he and a sixteen-year-old Blair overcome several obstacles to be together. 

Notes: This is an AU with Jim as a 24-year-old private security guard and not a cop or soldier. He still has sentinel abilities though. 

Warnings: This is underage fiction, fiction defined as not real, folks. If you don't like even make believe accounts of underage consensual sex, find something else to do with yourself. 

Fit  
by Grey 

God, he was hungry. 

Starved. 

Famished. 

Ready to eat a horse on the run. 

Blair took off his glasses and rubbed his face with both hands, his brain fuzzy, the fatigue sanding out hollow bones just beneath thin skin. Replacing his glasses, he tried once again to focus on the pages, but found only smears and inky blurs. 

"Shit." The muttered profanity brought a shush from the girl at the other library table. He restrained himself from saying fuck it and simply shrugged as he bit his lower lip, wondering how desperate he'd have to be to bite down just a bit harder. 

Closing the book, he stood and steadied himself against the table, the dizziness taking him by surprise. After a few moments to clear his head, he returned the book before grabbing his backpack and heading back to the dorm. Maybe Charlie had some candy stashed away under his pillow. 

"Hey, Sandburg." 

Glancing up, Blair grinned in recognition. His blond friend smiled, the straight teeth a testimony to good genetics and fine dentists everywhere. The broad handsome face matched the athletic body, the shoulders squared and confident edging close to the land of too much pride. Sparkling green eyes accented his emerald cable-knit sweater and ruddy cheeks matched his good humor. "Hey, Charlie. What are you doing here? Thought you hated the library." 

"I do, but I figured I'd find your skinny ass here even on a sunny day. Score one for me, huh?" At the bottom of the steps, Blair stopped and closed his eyes, the faint spin of his vision blacking the world momentarily. A hand touched his shoulder lightly at the sound of his friend's worried voice. "You okay?" 

"I'm fine. What'd you want?" 

"Thought you'd like to come over to Brett's for awhile. His dad's away and he's having a few people over." 

"Brett Jamison?" 

"You know any other Bretts?" 

"No, but I thought you didn't like him." Blair walked along with his roommate, his body sluggish as he shouldered his pack. 

"He's a jerk sometimes, but throws a hell of a party." Patting him on the back, Charlie lowered his voice. "There'll be plenty of free food. Drinks, too, if you want." 

"You don't think he'd mind me coming along?" 

"Why should he? You're with me. He doesn't like it, too fucking bad." 

"I don't want any trouble." 

"There won't be any." Charlie stopped walking and motioned for Blair to sit down on the bench. "You telling me you've got a better offer?" 

"No." Blair settled beside him, not meeting his eyes. "It's just that he called me a fucking dork last time." 

"That's because you showed him up in front of Palmer. I mean, let's face it. You're only a kid and know more than most of the seniors around here. People like Brett get a little intimidated by that." 

"And you don't?" 

"Not when I can use it to my advantage. Having you for a roomie's helped my grades, so I'm not complaining." 

"You just needed a little help, that's all." 

"Yeah, whatever." Charlie leaned back and stretched his arms out across the back of the bench, one arm behind Blair. "Listen, you found any way to make some steady cash yet?" 

"Not yet. Haven't heard back from the grant committee and I've applied for more hours in the work-study program." Nervous, not wanting to talk about his own poverty, Blair reached for his pack. "I think I'll skip the party." 

A hand stayed his leaving and Blair met serious, concerned eyes as Charlie spoke quietly. "Don't say no, man." 

"Why not?" 

"Because I happen to know you're not eating. You won't even take a fucking loan for godsakes." 

"I appreciate the offer." 

"I know that, but, damn it, Blair, you're losing weight and you can't afford that. I hate to say it, but you look like shit. You need to eat. Come on. It'll be fun." 

"I don't know, man." 

"Brett's got plenty. What's the harm? You got anything better to do for the afternoon?" 

"Not really, but I've got that project for Dr. Martin." Blair played with the straps of his pack, his hunger raging, his pride sinking into the background. 

"You can do that paper in your sleep. Come on. Let's go check out the menu, want to?" 

Smiling in surrender, Blair shook his head. "Man, you're a stubborn son of a bitch, you know that?" 

"No more than you are. Now come on, let's get a move on. I heard he was going to have some barbecued ribs. I love that shit." 

"Why don't you just shoot fat into your veins and be done with it?" 

"What fun would that be? Shit. It's the flavor, man. Light a torch to the taste buds and I'm in heaven." 

"You're such a sensualist pig, man." 

Laughing, Charlie oinked and then smacked him on the back with affection and nudged him down the path. "Let's take the Hog mobile. I'll even let you drive it home if you're good." 

"You planning on drinking?" 

"Maybe." 

Blair groaned, his mind going back to the previous weekend. "Just promise not to puke on my shoes this time." 

"No promises, kid. It's a party." 

* * *

Jim hated working for the Jamisons, all arrogant and condescending bastards, but he needed the money. Still, he didn't have to smile when he worked and he didn't. Grimly moving along the corridor, he checked the security layout once again and wondered why they even bothered with two guards on duty when electronics did the job just as well. Good for appearances no doubt. He turned and heard Brett from the kitchen telling the staff to get ready for his guests. God, another wild party. Shit. Hope it turned out better than the last fiasco. 

Groaning to himself, he called up Davis on his security unit. "Tim, we've got an unscheduled party going down." 

A few seconds later, his partner's voice came through. "Yeah, seems junior's celebrating finding his own dick. You want to take the inside or the yard during the festivities?" 

"Doesn't matter." 

"I'm outside, then. All that loud music gives me a headache." 

"Tell me about it. They might trail outside though, so stay on top of it." 

"It's supposed to rain later. More likely the action will be on your end." 

"Could be. Do we phone the boss?" 

"Up to you. Me, I stay out of personal business. I'm just here to guard the family heirlooms, not worry about the kid's behavior." 

"Smart man." 

"I try. Over." 

The transmission finished, Jim headed downstairs and stood quietly while Brett made last minute demands. After a few minutes, the younger man stepped over to his side of the room. "You got anything to say, Ellison?" 

"Not really." 

"Then don't just stand there. Make yourself useful. I've got people coming over and you can keep an eye on stuff." 

"You got thieves for friends?" 

"Hey, all I'm saying is my old man had a fucking coronary over those antique frames that went missing before. Keep a better eye out this time." 

Jim clenched his jaw, his mind reviewing the image of Brett taking the frames himself, of giving him to a friend to sell. "You sure you want me to do that?" 

"What the fuck do you mean by that?" 

"I mean, I might see more than you want me to." 

"Look, just do your job, man, and stay out of the way. Things get stolen, it's your ass, not mine." 

Biting back the urge to tell the boy to go fuck himself, Jim turned and left the room, his blood pressure building. Wild visions of sending the asshole through the wall peppered his brain as he worked to control his temper. Wouldn't do to kill his employer's son. Might not get a good reference when he'd finally had enough and decided to get a real job like being a cop instead of pretending that what he did now even mattered. 

* * *

"Wow, man. I've seen villages that didn't have this much food at harvest." Blair eyed the smorgasbord of everything from salad to shrimp, from fancy handcarved deserts to plain old chips and dip. His stomach growled in anticipation. 

"Settle down, kid. Stuff yourself and you're liable to puke your guts out before it's over." 

"Will not, and stop calling me kid." 

"You're a kid, Sandburg. Deal with it." Charlie handed Blair a plate and laughed. "Man, I wish we had a freezer at our place. We could eat a month on this stuff." 

Blair didn't take time to answer, but filled his plate with cheese and crackers. He skipped the ribs, but added the gourmet chicken sandwiches and deviled eggs. Nibbling along the way, he scanned the room, and ducked to the other side of the table, his bag low on his arm as he put the vegetables and breads in a plastic bag stowed in his pack for later. 

Finding a chair, Blair settled down and relished the taste of something besides peanut butter and stale bread. Charlie returned to his side and held out a beer bottle. "Want some?" 

"No, man. Got any soda?" 

"I'm sure it's hiding around here somewhere." 

Sitting beside him, Charlie drank his own beer and put Blair's on the table beside him. "You know it must be cool to live like this." 

"You think?" 

"Yeah, I mean, look around. This is like out of the movies or something. It's hard to believe people actually live in a place that has guards walking around." 

"Guards?" Blair glanced over to gauge the seriousness of his friend's statement. 

"Yeah, didn't you see them when we came in? They're not wearing uniforms, but there's one in front at the gate and another walking around just checking us out." Charlie scanned the crowded room and pointed at a tall man standing on the balcony, his arms crossed, his expression solemn. "See. Right up there." 

Blair followed the line of sight and noted the man, mid-twenties, powerful build, piercing gaze trained right down at them. He pushed Charlie's arm down and swallowed hard, suddenly anxious. "Stop pointing, man. Fuck. He sees us." 

"Good. Means he's on the job. Kind of freaks me out though." 

"Why?" 

"I don't know. It just does. I guess it's like when you're driving along minding your own business and a cop pulls up behind you. You're not doing shit, but you still get nervous, you know?" 

"Yeah, I guess." 

Charlie finished his beer and wiped his mouth before picking up the bottle he brought for Blair. Holding it up, he asked one more time. "You sure?" 

"I'm sure, man. One of us has to stay sober." 

"Better you than me, man." 

"Look, Charlie, try not to get too wasted. I don't want to have to carry you to the car." 

Snorting in amusement, Charlie drank some more. "Tell you what, kid. I get too wasted, have the buff bud upstairs carry me out, okay?" 

"Buff bud?" 

"Yeah, you know, the one up there watching you ever since you got here." 

"Stop talking crazy, man." 

"Crazy? Not me, kid. The guy's been eyeing you like the cherry you are ever since we walked in." Mussing Blair's curls, he laughed and grinned. "You're so fucking innocent, Sandburg." Leaning over, he wrapped his arm around Blair's neck and pulled him closer, whispering teasingly in his ear. "You're just too fucking pretty for your own damn good, that's the problem." 

"Jesus, man." Pushing Charlie away, Blair stood up and picked up his pack. "You get stupid when you drink." 

"Lighten up, Blair. I didn't mean anything." 

"I think we should go home." 

"You're kidding, right? It's still early." 

Looking around, noting the stares, he lowered his voice and pleaded, "Come on, man. I've got a bad feeling about this place." 

"You're just not used to being where the rich and famous hang out." 

"Maybe. And maybe I just think we don't belong here." 

Suddenly angry, Charlie stood up. "Fuck off, Sandburg. Leave if you want." 

"You've got the keys, man." 

"And the car. Find your own damn way home." Storming off, Charlie pushed through a crowd of people before disappearing into another room. 

Embarrassed and standing alone, Blair picked up his bag and headed toward the door, not quite sure how far away the nearest bus stop might be. As he touched the knob, an unfamiliar voice spoke from behind. "Don't worry about your friend, Sandburg. I'll make sure he doesn't drive home." 

Turning, he looked into the striking blue eyes of the guard from the balcony. Up close he stood so much taller and wider, his muscular arms bulging against the soft white cotton of his long sleeved shirt. His tight pants and great package didn't hurt the overall impression, either. "Excuse me?" 

"I just meant, he'll probably be too drunk to drive home. I'll call a cab and make sure he's okay." 

"Thanks, man. I appreciate it. He doesn't get like that often." 

"You sure about that?" 

"What?" 

"I just get the impression that this isn't his first party." 

Smiling weakly, Blair shrugged. "Well, Charlie does like to get a bit loaded sometimes." 

"Yeah, I figured. Look, you want me to call you a cab, too?" 

"No, man, but thanks." 

"How are you going to get home? Your friend has the keys." 

Suspicious, Blair's body stiffened. "How do you know that? Come to think of it, how did you know my name?" 

"I overheard you two talking." 

"How could you? You were still upstairs." 

"What difference does it make? Look, maybe I can call your parents and they can come by to get you." 

"I live at the university, man. It's no big deal." 

"You don't look old enough to be in college." 

"Appearances are deceiving." Meeting those concerned eyes again, Blair looked away quickly, his body tingling in all kinds of unexpected places. He worked to keep his voice steady and his hands to himself. "It's not a problem. I'll just catch a bus back in." 

"The buses don't come out this far. It's at least five miles to the nearest stop and it's raining. Why don't you just let me call a cab? If it's money, I'll take care of it." 

"No way, man." Running his hand back through his short curls, he frowned. "I guess I could just hang around here a little longer. That way I could drive Charlie home myself." 

"Yeah, you could do that. If you want, you could hang around with me." 

"Yeah?" Blair tilted his head and studied the man a bit more. "What's your name?" 

"Jim. Jim Ellison." Jim held out his hand and shook with a firm grip, his face finally breaking into a small smile. "I'm the security around here. I keep watch from the balcony, but then, you already know that." 

Flushing, Blair tried not to show his embarrassment too much. "Man, I'm like so sorry about that. Charlie's got no manners." 

"It's okay. He's right though. I have been watching you since you got here." 

"Yeah? How come?" 

"Follow me back to my watchtower and I'll tell you." 

"Watchtower?" 

Jim motioned him to follow through the noisy crowds. "It's just a metaphor." 

"A metaphor for what?" 

"For how I live my life." 

"Cool, man." They stayed quiet until they got to the upstairs landing and then Blair dropped his pack and leaned back against the rail facing Jim. "Okay, now tell me. What makes me so interesting?" 

Turning his attention back to crowd, Jim kept his voice even. "That little Lucy act you pulled for one thing." 

"Lucy act?" 

"Yeah, you know, that episode where's she's squirreling away all those chocolates? You sort of reminded me of that when you were loading yourself down for the winter." 

Unsettled, Blair shrugged. "I'm sorry, man. I just took a few things for later." 

"It's not a problem. I figure you were hungry, right?" 

"A little." 

"More than a little. You looked like you hadn't eaten in awhile." 

"Not that long." 

"Long enough. You looked like you were starving." Crossing his arms, Jim turned to stare at him. "To tell the truth when I first saw you, I sort of pegged you for a runaway. You've got that kind of lost puppy dog look." 

"Gee, thanks, man." Blair stood up, suddenly angry, ready to take off until Jim took his arm. 

"Don't leave. I'm sorry. I didn't mean that in a bad way." Lowering his voice, stepping in closer to be heard over the wild music. "There's another reason I've been watching you." 

Glaring down at his arm, Jim released him. Taking a deep breath, Blair relaxed. "Okay, what's the other reason?" 

"Because I couldn't stop myself." 

The husky tone caught his attention as he edged closer. "Really?" 

"Yeah, really." 

Nodding, his mind swollen with need and desire, Blair glanced all around. "So, what you're saying is that you're interested?" 

"I know this is crazy, but there's just something about you that makes me want to get to know you better." 

"Just get to know me?" 

"For now. You want to go somewhere later?" 

Swallowing down both fear and excitement, Blair leaned forward on the rail, his arms crossed, his heart racing. "So, are you like asking me out on a date?" 

"I guess I am, yeah." 

"Wow." 

Jim smiled, the change adding vigor and youth to his already handsome features. "Do I take that as a yes?" 

"I guess. I mean, I've never been asked out by a guy before." 

"Really?" 

"Feels kind of weird." 

"Weird how?" 

"Just weird. I never thought I looked like the type, you know, to date guys." 

"Do I look like the type?" 

Grinning, Blair shook his head. "Not really." 

"Appearances are deceiving." 

"So, I've heard." 

* * *

"Come on, Davis. You owe me a favor." 

"Favors don't include taking a drunk teenager home from a party, Ellison. Let his cute little friend drive his ass home." 

Jim frowned and tried harder, stepping in closer to his partner. "I don't want to let his friend drive him home and I don't trust a cab driver to get the kid inside the dorm without turning him in for underage drinking. If it gets out that he got drunk here, Jamison won't be happy." 

"God, what a fucking mess. Half the kids here needed a taxi service. Driveway looks like a damn parking lot. Jamison's going to go ballistic when he shows up. I'm glad Barnes and Grayson are on duty when he gets back instead of us." 

"Something happens, Jamison's legally liable and so are we when it comes down to it. Now, all the other kids are taken care of. I just need you to take this one guy home, that's all." 

Davis crossed his arms and sat back on his desk, his face tense and suspicious. "Okay, what gives? What's the real reason you won't let his friend take him home? The kid too young to drive or what?" 

"He can drive, but I've got other plans, that's all." 

"Shit, Ellison, you're kidding? Robbing the cradle now?" Davis ran his hand back over his head as he talked, the tension growing. "Look, I know you play for the other team, but hell, he can't be more than fifteen or sixteen." 

"He's in college." 

"No shit?" 

"No shit. You going to drive the guy home or not? I'll do an extra shift next week if you want." 

Sighing and shaking his head, Davis stood up, eyed Jim and picked up his keys. "Next time I need to see Julie, you cover for me, okay?" 

"I appreciate it, Tim." 

"You'd better." Pausing, Davis met his eyes, his face more worried than irritated. "Just be careful, Jim. Jamison doesn't know about your preferences and if he finds out, he'll fire our asses. If the kid turns out to be underage, well, Jamison will be the least of your problems." 

Patting his back, Jim shrugged. "Don't worry. Everything will be fine. I'm just taking him out for something to eat, just to get to know him." 

"Riiight, just to get to know him. Got it." Picking up his jacket, Davis headed out and called back over his shoulder. "Check his ID, Jim. I'll bet you a twenty, he's not old enough to know yet." 

"You're on." 

"On about what, man?" Blair came around the edge of the doorway, the rain sparkling in his damp curls. 

"Nothing, Chief." 

"Chief?" 

"Yeah, I've been calling you that in my head ever since I saw you. You mind?" 

Smiling, Blair pulled his coat up higher. "I can do Chief. Got any pet names for yourself you'd like to share?" 

"Sir will do nicely." 

"Yeah, right. So, is your friend taking Charlie home or not?" 

"He's even going to tuck him in." Slapping and rubbing his hands together, Jim grinned. "So, you ready to go get some real food?" 

"You like Chinese?" 

"I love Chinese." 

"Cool." As they walked out and Jim locked the door, Blair's voice got suddenly serious while they headed toward Jim's truck. "I have to ask you something first though." 

"What's that?" 

"Well, I don't exactly have any money." 

"That's okay. I asked you out, remember?" 

"Yeah, I know, but it feels weird again." 

"Tell you what. Maybe if I ask you out enough, you'll stop feeling so weird about it and just enjoy it." 

"You think so?" 

"I'm willing to give it a try." 

"Me, too." Shyly, Blair climbed into the truck and put his pack on the floor while Jim started the engine. "Jim?" 

"Yeah?" 

"I don't want you to get pissed, but would you mind if we did this tomorrow night?" 

"What?" 

"It's just that I'm really tired. I don't want to wimp out while we're in the middle of something good." 

"Something good?" 

"Yeah, you know, a good conversation or whatever." 

Jim glanced over, the exhaustion mixed with fear shadowing the young man's features. Disappointed, Jim nodded. "No problem, Chief. You want to wait until tomorrow, that's fine. How about I pick you up for dinner around eight?" 

"That sounds cool." 

Before shifting gears, Jim turned in his seat and spoke quietly. "And if you change your mind, get cold feet, I'll understand, Blair. I won't be happy, but I won't push you into doing something if you're not interested." 

"I'm interested, Jim. Really." 

"But are you ready?" 

"I don't know. I think so. I'm just really tired right now." 

"Then rest and think about it. I'll call before I come by, okay?" 

"Thanks, Jim." Reaching over, Blair touched his arm gently as he smiled. "And I will definitely be thinking about it, man." 

Jim clenched his jaw and knew Sandburg wouldn't be the only one with a busy mind until tomorrow. Gripping the wheel harder, he ground his teeth with frustration and figured his hand might be pretty damn busy as well. 

* * *

Blair studied himself in the mirror, running his hand up along his furry chest. He noted the curly edges merged with the dark line running down from his navel and wondered why he had to be so damn hairy. Then he wondered about Jim's chest, smooth or fuzzy? Would his nipples harden like his did when he teased around the edges? Would his tongue slide along hot and wet and make Blair go crazy? Slipping his hand down over his crotch, his cock hardened behind the restraining zipper, complaining of neglect and deep aching need to be fondled. 

Jim's hand would do nicely, thank you. 

"Hey, Sandburg, what the hell are you doing?" 

Startled, Blair jerked his hand away from himself and flushed scarlet. "Jesus, Charlie." 

"Jerking off before a date? Mind if I watch?" 

"Fuck off." 

"I keep trying." Charlie flopped on his bed, his hand holding his head up as he frowned. "So, are you really going out with this guy?" 

Slipping on his T-shirt, Blair avoided the concerned eyes. "We're just having dinner." 

"But you want more, right?" 

"I didn't say that." 

"Come on, Blair. I know the signs of seriously horny, and you, my friend, are seriously in need of a good fuck. I just never figured you for queer, that's all." 

"I'm not queer." Just the sound of the slur from his friend chilled him. "I hate that word." 

Charlie shifted and sat up, leaning back against the pillows at the head of the bed, his ankles and arms crossed, his face solemn. "Better get used to it." 

Miserable, Blair sagged on the end of his own bed, his head lowered. "I'm not gay, Charlie, at least I never thought I was." 

"Really? You never once thought about it?" 

"Well, I thought about it. Doesn't everybody?" 

"I don't know." His voice lowered as he confessed. "I've thought about it." 

Testing his composure, Blair risked a glance over to find his roommate staring back at him, his eyes focused and intent. "Have you tried anything?" 

"No, but I've thought about it. Just recently, actually." 

"Recently? You met somebody?" 

"Yeah." Suddenly nervous, Charlie shrugged. "Doesn't matter, though. I don't think I'd have the nerve to act on it." 

"Why not?" 

"Because girls are easier, softer, too. I'd have to really be sure I wanted somebody to take that kind of risk." 

"You mean because you don't want to be labeled?" 

"That or heart-broken. Believe it or not, I don't get off on being rejected." 

Blair nodded and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry about Angela. She was a bitch to do what she did." 

"Yeah, well, it's history." Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Charlie leaned forward, bracing his arms on the mattress. "The thing is, are you sure about doing this? It's a big step, one you might regret if people find out you're letting strange guys take you out to dinner." 

"It's better than starving, and he's not a strange guy." 

"But he's a guy. And I could buy you food, Blair, and you won't even have to kiss me to get it." The teasing words turned serious as Charlie stood up and looked down, touching his shoulder lightly. "It could get ugly if people found out. I just don't want to see the others rag on you any more than they already do." 

"It's not like I'm marching in a parade, man. I'm just going out to dinner, that's all." 

"Just be careful. Aside from the whole gay thing, this guy makes me nervous." 

"Why?" 

"What's an old dude like that want with a kid? I don't like the answer I keep getting." 

Blair patted Charlie's hand away and stood up before he went back to the dresser to comb his hair. "Jim's not old. He's only twenty-four." 

"He looks older and how do you know that?" 

"Last night when you were pickling your liver, we spent a lot of time talking." 

Charlie sat down and watched Blair get ready, his voice still strained. "Did you mention you were underage?" 

"Not exactly." 

"What do you mean not exactly?" 

"I mean, I told him I went to school here." 

"So he thinks you're old enough. That's dumb, man. You need to tell him." 

Blair turned and leaned back against the sink, his arms crossed. "You're assuming we're going to sleep together." 

"Bet I'm not the only one." 

"What we do is between us, Charlie." 

"It's against the law." 

"So's underage drinking." 

"Touche. Still, if anyone finds out, it's trouble. Hope the guy's worth it. He's cute and all, but damn, being gay's a bitch, Sandburg. Just be careful, okay?" 

Blair ran his hand back through his hair, the tension tight across his belly. "I'm not gay, man." 

"Just curious?" 

"Yeah, something like that." 

"Well, I hope this Jim isn't some psycho chicken hawk." 

"Chicken hawk?" 

"Jesus, Sandburg, a chicken hawk's an older guy who gets off on young ones. If you're going to do the scene, you'd better learn your terms, man. Aren't you the one who's always going on and on about subcultures and shit?" His voice stressed the words, hurried them with an angry twist. 

"Settle down, Charlie. What's your problem, anyway? Why do you care who I go out with?" 

"I just worry about you, that's all. You're my friend. Is that so hard to believe?" 

Touched, Blair smiled, his voice catching. "Thanks. I appreciate that. I think of you as a friend, too." 

"Cool. So, cancel this Jim guy and I'll buy you dinner. Just two friends grubbing for the fun of it." 

Blair shook his head in amusement as he sat down to put on his shoes. "I'll be fine. Don't worry." 

"Promise not to do anything too stupid?" 

"Promise." 

Sighing, Charlie headed to the door. "If you need me, just call, okay?" 

"I'll be fine." 

"Keep singing it, Sandburg. We'll figure out the tune later." 

* * *

"Want some more rice?" 

"No, thanks." 

Jim wiped his mouth and studied his companion, his face pale and anxious. Despite that, something about the young man buzzed his senses, geared him up like no one he'd met in ages. Still, he couldn't avoid the truth. "You're really nervous about all this, aren't you?" 

"I don't mean to be." Blair made circles in his food with his chop sticks, his eyes averted. 

"It's okay. Why don't you just finish up and I'll take you home?" 

His head jerked up, his words rushed. "No, man, I don't want to go home." 

"Then what do you want?" 

"I don't know. I've just never done this before." Blair glanced around before leaning in. "It's not you, Jim. Honest. It's me. I'm being stupid." 

Smiling, Jim sat back, his head tilted. "You're not being stupid, just young. It's kind of cute really." 

"Cute?" 

"Yeah, so tell me some more about your project." 

Relaxing a fraction, Blair straightened up, his voice more even. "Which one? I've got about a dozen. I love doing research about ancient or primitive cultures, about their power structures, about how they functioned and managed to be so diverse and yet successful." 

"Why ancient or primitive? Why not modern?" 

"I don't know." Blair put his chop sticks down and sat back, his face more serious. "I think it's because in the past and on simpler levels, there was a real connection we seem to have lost in modern life. I read these journals, these private writings, and find out how close people used to be. Now people seem so disconnected, so isolated." 

"So lonely." 

Meeting blue eyes, Blair nodded, his face shadowed. "Yeah. Lonely." 

"Ever lived in one of those cultures?" 

"I went on a couple of summer expeditions, one to Borneo, one to Chile." 

"What did you think?" 

"I thought I'd been born in the wrong century." 

The sudden short laugh caught them both off guard as Jim smiled. "I knew there was a reason I liked you so much." 

"What?" 

"I've felt like that before." 

"When?" 

"It doesn't matter." Blair frowned and pushed his hair back. "What?" 

"It's just you want me to tell you all this stuff about me, but you don't tell me anything about you." 

"There's not much to tell. What there was, I told you at the party." 

"You didn't tell me dick at the party, Jim. Just statistics." Irritated, Blair leaned in again and spoke quietly. "I just want to get to know you better, that's all." 

Shifting uncomfortably, Jim rubbed his mouth and then shrugged. "Okay, what do you want to know?" 

"Tell me what you didn't want to tell me before, about the time when you felt out of place." 

Biting the inside of his jaw, Jim took a deep breath, his voice suddenly tighter. Risk ran his life. Might as well run with it. "I was in the army for awhile, not long. Anyway, we had a flight over Peru and it went down. Everyone died except me." 

"Oh, my god." 

Winding through his own memories, Jim didn't stop, went right on telling what he'd avoided saying to anyone else. "I wanted to die, too, at the time. I was hurt pretty bad, but the Chopec took me in. I didn't speak the language and was too sick to even try waking up for awhile. I kept hearing this one voice talking, this one voice telling me to come back. Finally, it was like someone flicked a switch. I knew what they were saying and what they wanted. I fit. For the first time in my life, I fit." The words choked as he continued. "It wasn't until the army found me that I felt ripped apart again." 

"Is that why you're not in the army now?" 

"I've got a disability." 

"Disability? Why?" 

Jim closed his eyes, the hiss of voices rising in his head. "When I got back, I couldn't function anymore, some Post Traumatic Stress thing. They discharged me, gave me a check, and pretty much threw my ass out." 

"That sucks." 

"Tell me about it." 

The voices grew louder, took shape with terror from another room. "Stay put." 

"What's going on, Jim?" 

"There's a fight in the kitchen. I'm going to check it out." 

"Wait a minute, man. Call the police." 

"There's no time." 

Before he could say anything else, a man flew out of the double doors from the kitchen, gun waving, a woman shoved in front. "Bitch, you're not going to leave me." 

The woman cowered as he pushed her forward and Jim stepped closer. "I don't think you want to do that." 

"Fuck off." 

"Let her go." 

"I said fuck off." He lifted the gun just as Jim spun into action, his leg up and his foot hitting the target. The explosion of pain stunned him, but not before the woman fell forward, knocking them both to the ground as the man headed off and fled through the front doors. 

Held down by the woman's weight and his own traitorous body, light fingers touched his face, Blair's panicked voice drifting down from a long tunnel. "Shit, man, don't do this." 

* * *

Hands shaking, Blair lifted the cup of bitter coffee to his lips. He ignored the scalding liquid as he pushed away the image of Jim's bloody and unconscious body being treated. His eyes stung as his vision blurred. Jim had to be all right, just _had_ to be. He couldn't lose him before he even had a chance to figure out why he needed him so much when he really didn't even know him yet. 

He belonged with Jim now. The depth of that conviction swallowed him whole, made him feel lost and yet somehow anchored. He couldn't explain it. He just _knew_ it. 

"Blair Sandburg?" 

Glancing around, he found himself looking up into the face a black man wearing a light trench coat, his face grim and imposing. "Yeah?" 

"Detective Simon Banks, Cascade PD. Could I talk to you a minute?" 

"Sure." Blair sat down on one of the plastic chairs in the waiting room, away from most of the other people. "Is Jim okay?" 

"What's your relationship with Mr. Ellison?" 

"He's my friend. You didn't answer my question. Nobody will tell me what's going on. Is he going to be okay?" 

The man's face softened, the dark eyes more open. "He should be. The bullet passed through his right side without hitting a vital organ. Did some tissue damage and blood loss, but he's stable. He's still unconscious though. I was hoping you could tell me what happened." 

Blair ran his hand back through his hair, his lips dry as he tried to form the words. "It happened so fast, man. So fucking fast." 

"I know. Just take a deep breath and tell me what you can remember. Take your time." 

Following orders, Blair swallowed hard and did just that, the air too thick to fit his lungs. Panic gripped him again, but he closed his eyes and struggled to speak clearly. "We were eating, you know, just talking." 

"About what?" 

"It doesn't matter. It's got nothing to do with what happened." 

"Maybe I should decide that?" 

Blair met his eyes and shook his head. "It's personal." 

"Personal?" Banks studied him several long seconds before he nodded and urged him to continue. "Okay. Then what?" 

"Jim must have heard something because he suddenly stopped talking. He told me to stay put and that's when the guy stormed out of the kitchen with Ms. Lee." 

"How did you know her name? Did you or Mr. Ellison know her before tonight?" 

"I don't know about Jim, but I don't think so. I didn't. We were just talking when the EMTs were working on Jim. She was thanking me for Jim helping." 

"Why don't you think Mr. Ellison knew her?" 

"She asked his name." 

"Okay, what's Mr. Ellison do for a living?" 

"He's a security guard and he's ex-military. He protects people." 

"And you?" 

Confused, Blair shook his head. "Me?" 

"What do you do?" 

"I'm a student at the university. Anthropology." 

"How did you and Mr. Ellison meet?" 

"What the hell does that matter?" 

Holding up a hand, Banks stayed the complaint. "Look, I'm just trying to get a full picture of what happened. Figure out why it is that out of all the customers only your friend got involved." 

"Because he's the kind of guy who helps people." 

"And what's your relationship again?" 

Suspicious, Blair frowned. "Why do you keep asking that?" 

"I'm just curious, that's all. You two don't seem to have much in common." 

"What's that got to do with anything?" 

"As an investigator, I've learned you never know what information might come in useful for solving a case." 

Blair put his coffee cup down and sat back, his arms crossed, his gut knotted. "What case, man? I'm sure Ms. Lee knows the name of the guy who assaulted her and shot Jim. Why aren't you out looking for him?" 

"We are, but since I'm waiting for your friend to wake up to make a statement, I thought I'd find out as much as I can about him." 

Remaining quiet, Blair wished for a window, something to look out of, something to take his mind off the nagging pressure of wanting to run around screaming and trying to find Jim. 

"Are you okay, Mr. Sandburg?" 

"I'm just tired. I've never seen a man shot before." 

"It can be pretty scary, especially when you care about a person." 

"Yeah." Blair cleared his throat, working to control the twisting cramps winding through his belly. "I was afraid he'd die." 

"He could have." 

"Shit." The shaking started again and he wrapped his arms tighter around his middle. 

"You should go home. Is there someone I can call to drive you? Your parents?" 

"I'm not leaving. I need to see Jim." 

Banks stood up and took off his coat, his broad shoulders straining the edges of his dark suit jacket as he sat back down. "It's going to be a long wait. He's not even awake. Even then, if you're not family, they probably won't let you in." 

"I'm staying." 

"Does he have family to call? On his ID there wasn't an emergency contact, just his employer." 

"I don't know. He never said." 

"What about you? Won't your family be worried about where you are?" 

Blair looked up, his body tired, his muscles weak. "I live at the university, but I guess maybe I should call my roommate Charlie." 

"No family?" 

"My mom doesn't live here." He bit his lower lip, his head pounding, his whole body on the verge of snapping. "I just want him to be okay." 

Banks nodded, his gruff voice just a bit softer. "I'll talk to the doctor after I see him. I'll see what I can do." 

Meeting his eyes, Blair refused to cry, refused to let a single tear fall, but it didn't matter. Banks saw it and didn't laugh or make a joke about wimpy Sandburg. "Thanks, man. I appreciate it." 

"No problem." 

* * *

Cold locked up his muscles, his neck stiff from sleeping at the wrong angle, the whole world seriously rocked as Blair opened his eyes. Sand scraped his sight as Simon Banks shook his shoulder. "Sorry to wake you, but we need to talk." 

Straightening up, Blair groaned and used both hands to scrub away the solid ache in his cheekbones. "Oh, man. About what?" 

"About Jim. Are you sure there's no family to call? We need to get a medical history." 

Adrenaline cleared his thinking and he sat up. "What's going on?" 

"He's still not awake. The doctors aren't sure why. I was hoping you knew someone we could call." 

"I need to see him." 

"Look, I told you before..." 

"I'm serious, man. I can help. I _need_ to see him, talk to him. I can't explain, but I know I can make him wake up." 

Simon sighed and shook his head. "Well, I don't see how it could hurt. Follow me." 

Picking up his jacket, Blair moved in beside him and walked into the room, the doctor turning as they entered. "Detective." 

"Doctor Taylor, this is Blair Sandburg. He's a friend of the patient." 

The older man focused on him, his voice tight. "Do you know of any medical problems, Mr. Sandburg? We still haven't tracked down Mr. Ellison's records. We're working in the dark here." 

"He was in a plane wreck once, a bad one. That's why he left the military." 

"Military? Do you know what branch? We can get his records." 

"Army." Seeing Jim's still body tugged at his heart, made his throat almost too dry to speak. "Could I talk to him?" 

"He's unconscious." 

"I know, but he can hear us. Just let me talk to him, let him know he's not alone." 

Dr. Taylor frowned and looked first at Blair and then at Simon. Shrugging, he surrendered. "Stay with him and I'll be back after I make a few phone calls." 

As soon as he left, Blair stepped to the edge of the bed, noting the ominous wires and tubes connected to his friend. Biting his lip, he reached out and caressed Jim's cheek. "Jim, man, you're going to be okay. Can you hear me?" He reached down and took the limp hand, bringing it up as he spoke, squeezing it gently. "I want you to wake up. I know you hurt. I mean, the bullet must feel like a son of a bitch, but you have to come back. No running away, okay? No way am I giving up on you now." 

Still holding his hand, Blair ran his palm lovingly over the top of Jim's buzzed head, the fuzz like a warm velvet glove stroking his skin. Just as he started to speak again, Jim's fingers twitched, his hand gripping against Blair's. "Shit. That's the way, man. You can do it." 

Eyelids fluttered and a low groan came from the bed. "What the fuck happened?" 

This time he didn't stop the tears as he smiled. "You got shot, man." 

"Mother fucker." 

"Yeah, you said it. Welcome back." 

Turning his head slightly, Jim's face scrunched up in pain. "God, it hurts." 

"Focus on me instead, man. Fuck the pain. Let it drain away. You can't feel it." 

"You're full of shit, Sandburg." 

"Just trust me, Jim. Try it. Relax. Let it flow out of your body. You can do it." 

Closing his eyes again, Jim took several deep breaths and slowly smiled. "It's better." 

"See?" 

Jim looked up at him again and then frowned. "Who's the company?" 

Blair kept Jim's hand in his but motioned his head at Simon. "This is Detective Simon Banks. He's on the case. We've been sort of hanging out while you've been knocked out." 

"Hanging out?" 

"You've been out all night and most of the day, man." 

"Shit. What time is it?" 

"Time for people to leave so I can look over the patient." Dr. Taylor spoke from the doorway. Instead of pleased, he looked haggard and confused. "I need to check him over." 

Blair smiled and gave a quick pat of his cheek. As he released Jim's hand, Jim held on tighter. "I want him to stay." 

"I'm sorry, but..." 

"He's staying." 

"Jim, come on, man. It's okay. I'll wait right outside." 

"Promise?" 

"Sure. You're going to be fine." 

Reluctantly, Jim let him go and frowned. "I hate hospitals." 

Dr. Taylor nodded and smiled, his voice sarcastic. "Now, that's a new one." 

* * *

"That was pretty amazing." Simon handed Blair another cup of hospital coffee and sipped some of his own. 

"What?" 

"That thing you did with Ellison." 

"What thing?" 

"Don't be obtuse. It doesn't suit you." 

"Are you talking about him waking up?" 

"That and you making him stop hurting by just telling him to." 

Blair sat down in the hallway chair, exhausted, his head fuzzy again, but less filled with doom. "There are all kinds of precedents about controlling pain with one's mind. In some cultures people can have surgery without any anesthetic because they can think it away. The mind is a powerful tool if we can just learn to harness it." 

"Looks like you've harnessed Ellison well enough." 

Blair looked up, surprised by both the casual tone and the statement. "What's that supposed to mean?" 

"It just means you don't look old enough to talk this old." 

Smiling, Blair snorted to himself. "You're not the first one to say that." 

"I checked out your records. You're only sixteen." 

"So?" Blair clutched the coffee cup with both hands, suddenly defensive. 

"I'm not blind. I see how it is." 

"How is it?" 

Stepping in closer, Simon lowered his voice. "I'm not talking as a cop here, now, okay?" 

"I guess. So, how are you talking?" 

"As a man who's had a little more experience at how the world works. I know you think the world doesn't matter right now, all that matters is Jim Ellison, but you're wrong." 

"I don't know what you're talking about." 

"Yeah, you do. Just be careful. Jim seems like a nice enough guy, but he could get in a lot of trouble if it gets out he's with a sixteen year old boy." 

"I'm not a boy, and with all due respect, detective, you don't know shit about Jim and me." 

"Settle down, kid." 

"Don't call me kid, damn it." 

"Okay, okay." Simon put his free hand on Blair's shoulder. The younger man thought about shoving it off, but didn't, didn't feel the hostility he expected. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you." 

"Then don't talk about shit you don't know about, man." 

"What makes you think I don't know about it?" 

"What?" Blair looked up and saw compassion, recognized an expression of sympathy he'd missed before. 

"I know what it's like to want someone society says don't dare want. I'm not going to turn him in if that's what you're worried about. I just want you to know that you need to be careful. Someone else might see you with him and figure it out. They'd have his ass in jail and yours in a welfare office faster than you could blink. Until you're eighteen, there are all kinds of people who think they have the right to step in and run your life." 

"Tell me about it." 

"Have you told your mom?" 

"Keep my mom out of this." 

Dr. Taylor stepped out of Jim's room before Blair could say more, closing the door before he spoke. "Mr. Ellison can make a statement now, detective, but keep it short." He turned his attention to Blair, his dark eyes curious. "I don't know what you did in there, young man, but whatever it was, I hope you can use the same influence to get him to stay at least another day. He's threatening to discharge himself against medical advice." 

"And you think he needs to stay?" 

"He's still weak from blood loss and shock. I don't want that wound to go septic, either. I'd like at least another twenty four hours to be safe." 

"I'll talk to him." 

"Good." 

Simon spoke first as soon as they were alone, his voice kind and even. "You want to go first?" 

"You go. I want to stay after you're finished. I'll wait here in case he needs me." 

Rubbing the back of his head, Simon hesitated, his hand on the knob. "You should go eat first. That coffee will burn a hole in that empty stomach." 

"Hasn't hurt yours." 

"Just eat, okay? I should be done in about fifteen or twenty minutes." 

"I'll eat later." 

"You've got to be starving." 

"I am, but not for food, man." 

* * *

Pale colors swam around, milky sweet and swirly, the lights too long and bright. The gown weighed too heavy against his skin, the fibers rough and itchy, every thread burning. Sounds warbled as Jim closed his eyes and focused on trying to even out the buzzing around him. "Mr. Ellison, can you hear me?" 

"Too loud." 

Simon lowered his voice and whispered. "I'm sorry. Maybe I should go." 

"No, let's finish. What was that last question?" 

"Why did you try to stop the suspect when you were unarmed?" 

"He would've killed the woman." 

"How can you be sure? Maybe he would've let her go once he was out in the open?" 

Jim opened his eyes and met a dark, intelligent stare. "You really believe that?" 

"No, but I thought you might." 

"He said he'd kill her and he meant it. I got shot because I miscalculated." 

"You got shot because you're not faster than a bullet." 

"Yeah, that, too." Jim cleared his throat, his lungs raw, his heart punishing his chest. "Have you got the shooter yet?" 

"No, but we know who he is. We've got a warrant for his arrest." 

"Try Chow's off Chelsea." 

Simon tilted his head and asked, "Why Chow's?" 

"Because he's got a brother named Kim who works there." 

"How do you know that?" 

"He was talking about him when he was arguing in the kitchen." 

"You could hear that?" 

"Yeah. Listen, you might also want to run a drug team through the scene. I'm pretty sure they're running some heroin out the back. I could smell it on the perp." 

"One crime at a time, please. Relax. I'll pass the message along." 

Jim pushed the button to sit up and groaned as the bed moved. "Shit." 

"Need some help?" 

"I need to get out of here." 

"You strike me as an intelligent man, Ellison, so start acting like it." 

Suddenly angry, Jim snapped, "Fuck off, detective." 

"Fine, but I've been shot before, so take some advice. It takes longer than you think to get back on your feet, so stop acting like such a hardcase and listen to the doctor and your friend Sandburg." 

"Blair? Where is he?" 

"He's waiting outside like he promised. He's been worried sick since this happened. Hasn't gone home, hasn't eaten. To tell you the truth I'm a little worried about him." 

Jim studied the man, took in the dark features, the full lips, rich chocolate skin smooth over a thick jaw. His harsh, raspy voice grated on his ears, but the sincerity leveled the words. "Why should you care about Sandburg?" 

"Because he's a good kid." 

"He's not a kid." 

"Maybe not to you, but legally, yeah, he is. Granted, he's a bright kid, but he's still only sixteen." 

"Sixteen?" 

Puzzled, Simon shook his head. "Are you saying you didn't know that?" 

"He told me he was in college." 

"Well, he is, but he's still only sixteen." 

"Shit." 

"Yeah, well, despite the age thing, he's pretty stuck on hanging around to be sure you're okay." Jim remained quiet, his body tense, his brain echoing the number sixteen and its impact. "Ellison, listen, if you don't mind my asking, how do you think he did it?" 

Still dazed, his mind lagging behind, Jim slurred the words. "Did what?" 

"You don't remember?" 

"Remember what?" 

"You were unconscious. The doctor couldn't get you to respond. Then the kid comes in and just starts talking and you're awake." 

"It was his voice." 

"His voice?" 

Jim licked his dry lips, the grit in his mouth rough on his tongue. He recalled the soft vibration of the tones, the words carried like a lover's whisper to his ear, a sweet, lilting song calling him back to the light. "Just hearing it makes me feel better." 

Nodding, Simon sighed. "Man, you've got it bad." 

"What?" 

"Never mind. Listen, I'm finished here. I'll call you when we need you." 

"Sure." 

Stepping to the door, Simon paused. "You ever thought of being a cop?" 

"Got turned down." 

"Why's that?" 

"The military labeled me a head case." 

"Because?" 

**"PSTD."**

"That's a tough one, but you could get treatment, maybe try again. Think about it." 

As soon as he closed the door, Blair came back through it. "Hey, Jim." 

"Blair." Jim took in the haggard face, the sunken eyes rounded with anxious fear. "You look like shit." 

"Yeah? Got a mirror?" 

"Not handy." 

"Good, because you don't need seven years of bad luck." Jim's laugh halted as he grabbed his side, Blair moving quickly to stand near the bed. "You okay?" 

"I've been better. I forgot how much it hurts to get shot." 

"You've been shot before?" 

"Twice. Once in the arm and again in the leg." Jim met sad eyes and smiled weakly. "But I'm better since you're here." 

Blair met his eyes, the younger man's misted over. "I thought you were going to die, man." He took Jim's hand in his and held it up over his heart. "You scared the shit out of me." 

"Sorry. Didn't mean to." 

"Not your fault." Blair sighed and leaned against the rail, rubbing the back of Jim's hand against his own cheek, his voice low. "I'm just glad you're going to be okay." 

The heat of the younger man's touch warmed him, made the throb in his side lighten, his senses ease their annoying strobe effect. Turning his hand, Jim cupped Blair's face. "You've stayed here all this time. Why?" 

"Because I had to." 

"But why?" 

"Because I love you." 

The words slammed him, his lungs bewildered as he struggled to speak. "You can't love me, Blair. You don't even know me." 

"I know, but it doesn't matter. I can't explain it and I know it sounds crazy, but I just know that there's something about you that makes sense." 

"Makes sense?" 

"I can't explain it, but being with you makes me feel whole." 

"Whole?" 

"Weird, huh?" Jim relaxed as his body soaked in the touch of the man stroking his cheek, petting his forehead as he continued to speak quietly. "Come on, Jim. Remember how you said you kept watching me because you couldn't help yourself?" 

"Yeah, I remember." 

"Well, that's how I feel. It's like I can't help myself. I love you." 

"This is nuts, you know that." 

"Yeah, I know. Now, why don't you go to sleep for awhile and we'll talk more in the morning?" 

"I should go home." 

"You're staying here, man, so don't argue. A bullet wound's nothing to mess with." 

Jim surrendered and realized sixteen or not, it didn't make a bit of difference. He and Blair fit. Nothing else mattered. 

* * *

Fever and drugs made him groggy, but not so much that Jim didn't recognize his partner Tim Davis standing by the bedside. "Hey, Ellison, you going to wake up or what?" 

"Or what, probably." 

"Figures. Like I've got nothing better to do than watch your sorry ass sleep." 

"What time is it?" 

"Too late to make the late shift." Glancing at his watch, Tim answered again. "It's almost noon on a Tuesday. You've been pretty much out of it since I got here." 

"Where's Blair?" 

"The kid?" 

"Yeah, the kid." Jim closed his eyes, the throng of thumping in his head hounded by heat and pressure. Lifting his left arm, he rubbed his forehead, his fingertips burning against his skin. 

"He just left. He said he needed to go back to his place to get some clean clothes. Said he'd be back as soon as he could. In fact, he made a point of telling me that I'd better tell you that in case you bothered to wake up while he was gone. Fucking bossy about it, too." 

Jim smiled, hearing the conversation in his head, imagining Blair using his command voice to make his point. "Yeah, he does that." 

"Jesus, Ellison, I can't leave you on your own for a goddamn minute. What are you thinking, getting shot for fuck sakes?" 

"I didn't plan it." 

"No, of course not, just had to play the fucking hero." The brittle words came out hard, almost uncaring. Jim looked up and noted the signs of distress, the worry creasing the forehead. "Do you know how hard it is to find someone to take your place while you're laid up?" 

"I'm not that hard to replace, Tim. Besides, I should be back next week." 

"Next week? I doubt it. You're going to need at least two, maybe three. I don't want you coming back before you're ready." 

"It's not like the job's that hard. All I have to do is walk around for hours on end and do paperwork." 

"But the potential for action's always there. You have to be in shape or forget about it. That's what sick leave is for, so use it." 

Too weak to argue, Jim rubbed his temples with his one hand. "Okay, let's just wait and see how I feel." After a few moments of stretched silence, he met his friend's eyes and asked, "What?" 

"The kid." 

"What about him?" 

"They said he'd been here since Sunday night." 

"I know." 

"Jim, I'm talking as a friend now. I did some checking and he's underage." 

"I know." 

"So, what are you going to do about it?" 

"Nothing. He wants to hang around, he hangs around. That's his decision." 

Tim frowned, his face clouded as he bit his lower lip before he spoke. "I told you before that I didn't care about you being gay, you know that, but I'm having a hard time with this part." 

"What part is that?" Jim shifted slightly, ignoring the grabbing stab at his side as he focused his attention on his partner. 

"You know what part. Don't play fucking games here. If you get caught with a minor, you could go to jail. Now I could be crass and mention how that would be a huge slam on our business, but I'm really more worried about what that would do to you. You'd be a registered sex offender and have a criminal record. You've already got the military strike against you. You don't need this. Tell the kid to leave while you still can, before you get in too deep with this thing." 

"I'm already in too deep, Tim. Deeper than I ever thought I could be." 

"Fuck. Don't tell me this shit. Just don't." 

Jim wet his lips, the skin too dry and too thin, already broken and chafed at the corners. "If you have to bail, do it, but I'm not giving him up while he still wants to be with me." 

"You don't even know him." 

"I know what I need to know." 

"Which is?" 

"He says he loves me." 

"You're kidding, right?" Tim shook his head, his face tight and anxious. "And you? How do you feel about him?" 

"I don't know yet. I know he affects me in ways I can't explain." 

"I've seen him, Jim. It's not that hard to explain. He's a beautiful boy and I don't have to be gay to see that." 

"It's not about his looks, Tim. It's just him as a person and his age has nothing to do with that." 

"This is nuts." 

"Yeah, probably." 

Tim picked up his coat and put it on, his mouth tight and drawn. "Look, you're not in any condition to be making huge decisions. Just take it easy and let me know if you need anything. We'll talk about it when you're better." 

"Time's not going to change my mind about Blair." 

"I'm sorry to hear that, but think long and hard on this, Jim. If this goes on, if you don't get rid of him, I'm not going to be able to cover for you. You'll have to give up the business." 

"I understand that." 

"Do you? Would you really quit on me like that?" 

"If I had to, yeah." 

"I just don't understand you, man. I really don't." 

"Draw up the papers if you want, Tim. I just have to break even." 

Tim touched the door and hesitated. "Not yet. Give it three weeks. If you feel the same way, I'll think about it." 

"Do what you have to." 

"Yeah, man, you do the same." 

As soon as the door closed, Jim shut his eyes, his mind riding the wave of emotions rocking through him. So much turmoil and yet despite the prospect of losing his job and his friend, he rested with the steady comfort that he still had Blair. 

* * *

Blair stuffed his last T-shirt into the duffel bag and did a cursory check to be sure he'd packed the books he needed most over the next few days. 

"What the fuck are you doing?" 

Turning, he saw Charlie standing in the doorway, his face flushed and his eyes dazed. "Hey, man, I just came home to get some things." 

"Going back to the hospital?" 

"Yeah. Jim's going to have to stay overnight again because he's got a fever, but we're hoping he can go home tomorrow." 

"So, will you be coming home then?" 

Uneasy, Blair pulled the string on his bag and sat on the edge of the bed. "Actually I was thinking of moving in with Jim for awhile." 

Charlie walked forward enough to slam the door shut, his anger pushing his words. "Just like that? What the fuck are you thinking? You don't even know this guy and you're leaving school and moving in with him?" 

"Settle down, man. I'm not leaving school. He got shot. I just want to make sure he's all right." 

"You've already missed classes for him and you never miss classes, fucking never." 

"I made arrangements to get notes and assignments. I talked to the professors and they're cool. It's not a problem." 

"Well, it's a fucking problem for me. I don't want you to go." The words slurred as Charlie paced the room, his movements awkward, his voice rough and desperate. 

"You've been drinking." 

"So?" 

"So, you're not thinking straight. What difference does it make to you if I leave for awhile? You get the room to yourself. No more annoying lights on all night, no more jungle music keeping you awake." 

His voice softened, his words almost pleading. "I don't mind that. I like watching you study." 

The meaning behind the words hissed at him, made him sit up straighter as he met the sad eyes of his friend. "What's this really about, Charlie? Be honest." 

"I told you before, you're my friend, hell, man, my best friend. Friends don't leave like this." 

"And friends don't make others feel guilty for wanting to be with someone else." 

"They do if they figure that other guy's just going to fuck you over." 

"Jim's not like that." 

"You don't know that. You don't know shit about this guy other than he's a butch queer. This is fucked, Blair. I want you to stay." 

"With you?" 

"Yeah, with me. You could do worse." 

Standing, his muscles slowed by fatigue and strain, Blair shook his head. "You want my opinion, man, I wouldn't call anybody queer again." 

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean that." 

"Sure you did, but this isn't about Jim being gay, or even me for that matter." 

"What the fuck are you talking about?" 

Blair picked up his bag and stepped to the door. "Figure it out, man, before it's too late. I'll call you later about getting the rest of my things." 

"I can't believe you're just leaving." 

"Believe it." 

As he started to open the door, Charlie's open hand pounded into the wood keeping it closed. "No." 

"Move out of the way." 

Eyes misted, the words choked, the boy spoke in a whisper. "I thought we were friends." 

"We are, but not like what you want. I can't do that. I love Jim." 

"Fuck Jim." 

"Move out of the way, Charlie. Don't make this ugly." 

Shoulders sagging, he nodded and sighed in surrender before sitting down on Blair's bed. "You'll call me?" 

"Yeah. It's going be okay, man. We'll talk when you get sober." 

"Might have to wait awhile." 

Watching his friend fall back on his bed, lonely and despondent, Blair pushed back his hair, confused and not sure exactly what to do to make things better. After a few moments, he did the only thing he could do, leave and go to Jim, letting Charlie sort out his own demons. 

* * *

Low light funneled in slowly, the circle of vision opening wider as a regular heartbeat signaled Jim to turn his head. Blair sat in the chair near the bed, head down, his reading glasses low on his nose as he scanned the pages. He furrowed his brow as he teased his lower lip with his thumb while he read. God, how sexy. 

Glancing up, the younger man smiled and took off his glasses, his blue eyes wide and vibrant. "Hey, Jim. Glad to see you're awake. How you feeling?" 

"Okay." The word rasped hard across raw tissue and he swallowed several times to clear his throat. "What's so interesting?" 

Blair picked up the heavy textbook and read the title. "STUDIES IN ABORIGINAL DEVELOPMENT: SUBCULTURES WITHIN PRIMITIVE SOCIETIES AND THEIR FUNCTION. Pretty cool, really." 

"Light reading, huh?" 

Smiling, Blair closed the book and stood up to step closer. The back of his hand stroked up the side of Jim's face as he spoke. "Want to sit up and try drinking some water?" 

"Sure. Where's the button?" 

Before he could find it, Blair pushed it and raised the head of the bed. Vertigo spun him in circles as he groaned and gripped the sheets . 

"You okay?" 

"Just dizzy." 

"Your fever's down, but the doctor said the antibiotics and the pain meds might do that." 

"They usually do. I hate taking them." 

"Better than having your flesh rot and screaming in agony." 

"Yeah, there's always that." 

Blair handed him the glass of cool water and held it while he steadied the straw as he sipped. Cold liquid eased the burning and he pushed it away. "When can I get out of here?" 

"Doctor Taylor said he'd be back tonight to check you over. Should be here any time now. If your fever's gone, he said probably tomorrow." 

"How come I don't remember any of this?" 

"You've been in and out." Blair paused as he took Jim's hand, gently squeezing. "You were talking in some language I'd never heard before. You kept using the word Incacha. Does that mean anything?" 

Incacha. Shit. Stiffening, Jim pulled his hand away and sat up straighter. "It's just someone I knew once." 

"In Peru?" 

"Yeah." 

Nodding, Blair tilted his head and studied him thoughtfully. "You loved him, huh?" 

Flushing, Jim avoided his eyes, his defenses up. "I don't want to talk about this." 

"Okay, you want me to get you some juice or something?" 

Jim met his eyes and found no anger, no resentment, just concern. Relieved, his tension lessened, the knots in his stomach not quite so tight. "Juice would be great." 

"Sure thing. Apple or orange?" 

"Apple. Thanks." 

"Coming up." Getting a fresh glass from the bathroom, Blair poured ice and then opened the bottle to pour it. Adding a straw, he held it up like a prize. "I think I could do this for a living." 

"What? Be a nurse?" 

"No, a bartender. I've got a flair." 

Smiling, Jim shook his head and took the drink, the flavor exploding in his mouth, the icy pleasure only mired slightly by the metallic taste of the medication. After he finished, Blair put the glass on the table and sat down, his face still shadowed and tired. "You should go home and get some sleep." Frowning, Blair looked away, suddenly nervous. "What's wrong?" 

"Nothing." 

"Come on, Chief, tell me. You look like you just lost your best friend." 

Finally looking up, Blair shrugged. "Maybe. My roommate and I had a fight." 

"About?" 

"I told him I wanted to stay with you until you're better and he got kind of bent out of shape." 

Turning his head, Jim ignored the complaining muscles. "You want to stay at my place?" 

"Yeah." Suddenly looking uncertain, he added, "I mean, you're going to need me there until you get better. Is that a problem?" 

"Not to me." Relieved, Blair smiled again, but still held the pain in his eyes. "So, this roommate. Is he the guy you were with at the party?" 

"Yeah, Charlie Withers." 

"What's he upset about?" 

"I'm not sure. I think he's jealous." 

"Jealous? Of what?" 

"Of you." Blair scratched his head and then crossed his arms, clearly uncomfortable. "I'm not sure, but I think he has a crush on me." 

"I can believe that." 

Surprised, Blair jerked his head up. "Why do you say that?" 

"He was all over you at the party." 

"He was drunk." 

"Just an excuse to do what he wouldn't do sober." Jim let his head fall back as he spoke, his mind reeling back to the younger times when he'd used the same ploy, the same cover for what he really wanted. "The guy obviously has some issues." 

"I sort of figured. It's just I felt really bad leaving him like that." 

"Not much you can do about it." 

"I know. Doesn't make it easier." 

After a few moments of quiet, Blair scooted the chair closer and leaned his forehead on the rail, his face wedged between two slats as he talked. "I met your partner, Tim Davis." 

"Yeah?" 

"I don't think he likes me." 

Reaching over, Jim petted back a loose curl. "Don't worry about Tim. He's a barker." 

"Barker?" 

"Yeah, barks a lot, but he's harmless. He's just afraid I'm in over my head here." 

"How so?" 

Taking a deep breath, Jim whispered, "Why didn't you tell me you were only sixteen?" 

Pulling back, his face worried, Blair panicked. "I didn't mean to lie about it." 

"So why did you let me keep on believing you were older?" 

"Didn't want to scare you off." Blair stood up and paced the room, his movements rushed and wild. "Please, don't tell me to leave, Jim. I don't think I could stand that." 

Jim's words came out in a strained hush. "Get back over here and sit down." Swallowing hard, his eyes rounded, Blair sat down, his hands in his lap. "I have to admit, it scared me when Banks first told me." He held up a staying hand before Blair could interrupt. "It's okay. It doesn't matter, at least not to me. What I'm worried about is it might matter to you later." 

"It won't, man. Promise." 

"Blair, listen to me. I need you to really listen." 

"What?" 

"If we try this, we've got to be honest from the start. We've got a lot of things against us." 

"We've got a lot of things for us, too." Blair's voice softened, his words padded with hope. 

"Yeah, I know. But do you really understand what it'll mean to _be_ together. I'm not just talking about being roommates." 

"You're talking about sex, right?" 

Groaning as another unexpected pain spiked his side, Jim grunted, "Not just this second, but yeah, eventually." 

"I don't know about that part, Jim. I've never done anything like that, but I know I'm turned on by the idea of being with you. More importantly, I want to do other stuff." 

"Stuff? What stuff?" 

"I want us to be like a family." 

"Family?" 

"Yeah, like married." 

"Shit, Blair, we're not even living together yet." 

"But we will be, man. It's going to be great." The enthusiasm pushed the words and enhanced the brilliant smile. "Come on, man. Take a chance. It's nobody's business what we do together. We can make this happen." 

Reaching out his hand, Jim let Blair lace his fingers through his before he squeezed. "You're a great salesman, Chief." 

"That's because I'm selling the real thing, man. Makes it easy." 

Blair kissed their coupled hands as Jim shook his head. "I'll take your word for it." 

"Trust me, Jim, it's going to be awesome." 

* * *

Hunched over, his guts tight and throbbing, Jim fumbled with the key to the loft. 

"Here, man, let me do it." 

"I can do it." 

Unlocking the door, Jim pushed it open and entered the apartment, Blair behind him carrying his bag from the hospital. The place looked the same as always, bare walls, minimal furniture, everything functional save his one vice, the CD player. He headed to the sofa and managed to sit down without screaming. His whole body protested the slightest movement, the nausea worse than the actual pain of the wound. He hated being so weak, so fucking useless. 

He glanced up to find Blair looking all around, his face serious as he concentrated on the details. "Well?" 

"Well what?" 

"What do you think?" 

"It's very revealing." 

"Revealing?" Confused, Jim scanned the room again and shook his head. "How?" 

"There's not a personal item anywhere, no pictures, no pillows, not even a plant. Nothing to show that anyone really lives here, well, except for your music. You like music?" 

"Yeah, rhythm and blues mostly." 

"Me, too, but I like just about any kind of music." Blair slipped off his coat and hung it up. "Where's the linen and I'll make you a bed down here." 

"The bed's upstairs." 

"I figured, but you don't want to do those steps every time you have to use the bathroom, right? So, you can camp out down here until you've got your strength and balance back." 

"You're kind of bossy." 

Laughing, Blair shrugged. "I've heard that. Now, where's the linen?" 

"In the hallway closet." 

He came back faster than Jim could stand. Holding onto the wall, the older man fought off the wave of dizziness while Blair spread out the sheets and blanket. After a few minutes, he asked, "You want to get undressed or sleep like that?" 

"I usually sleep in my boxers, but it's cold." 

"Yeah, it is. You got a robe?" 

"Upstairs, in the closet." 

"I'll get it." 

By the time Blair came back, exhaustion had him heaped on the sofa, his body drained and covered with sweat. "I feel like I just ran a fucking marathon." 

"Yeah, and the bullet almost won, man." He motioned for Jim to hold out his arms and he slipped the robe on and then gently eased him back, careful to avoid touching the bandages. Pulling the sheets up, he leaned over and kissed his forehead. "Why don't you take a nap while I see what's around here to eat?" 

Stretched out, his body too stubborn to do more than lie still, he closed his eyes. Blair opened the cabinets and the refrigerator and then walked back over. "You've got nothing to eat here, not even bread. Damn, and I thought I was bad." 

Blair's voice came from a long distance, spidery and thin, wavering. Jim struggled to form words, the syllables too slippery for his tongue. "I eat out a lot." 

"I don't have any money, Jim, or I'd go get us something." 

"There's money in my wallet." 

"But it's yours." 

"It's ours. Take some and get what you want." 

"You sure?" 

"I'm tired." 

"Right. Go to sleep, then." A cool hand tenderly touched his forehead, the ridges of skin easy spirals pressed into his memory. Blair's hand comforted him, branding him to be remembered. Another loving kiss and he heard the rustle of clothes and the click of the door. Slipping into sleep, he marveled that for the first time in ages he didn't have the urgency to jump up and lock the door, to barricade himself away, alone and forever lonely. 

* * *

Rising up out of the muddled soup that passed for thinking, Jim swallowed hard and gritted his teeth as he struggled to sit up straighter. The lancing pain reminded him that the latest drugs no longer fazed him. "Shit." 

"You okay?" 

"I'll be all right." 

"Maybe we should call the doctor. That last pill should've helped more." 

His head back and his eyes closed, Jim grumbled. "It just makes it worse. It doesn't help and I can't think straight." 

"You're not supposed to be thinking. You're supposed to be resting." 

Jim held his side and opened his eyes to see worried eyes aimed in his direction. "I've done nothing but sleep for the last three days." 

"You experienced a major trauma, man. A bullet ripped right through your body. It takes awhile." 

"I've been shot before, but it wasn't this bad." Grimacing again, he strained to sit forward, but gave up and relaxed back on the sofa. 

Sitting in the nearby chair, Blair leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "Why don't we try what we did before?" 

"What's that?" 

"Remember when you first woke up? I told you to focus on me instead of the hurt, to just let the pain flow away." 

Jim met his eyes, concentrating harder, entranced by the tiniest swirls of deep teal circling the black pupil. "I remember that." 

"Then do it again. Focus on me, on my voice. In your mind imagine a steady stream of pain leaving your body. Just let it ease away so it can't hurt you." 

Squeezing his eyes shut, Jim envisioned a pool of clear, running water, the sunlight glinting off the mirrored and rippled surface. Long hazy threads spun into the air out from his chest, drifting into the waves, puffs sizzling as they evaporated, transformed into brightness. The rhythmic throbbing in his side muted, softened to near numbness. Smiling, he shook his head. "Man, that's something." 

"You mean it worked?" 

"Yeah, I feel better." 

"Cool." 

"Very." Jim shifted into a more comfortable position and studied his friend. "So, how did you learn how to do that?" 

"Do what?" 

"Figure out what to do to make the pain stop." 

Shaking his head, Blair pushed back his hair, his face relaxed but shadowed with fatigue. "I didn't. Not really. You're the one who did the work. I just made the suggestion." 

"But how did you know it would work?" 

"It worked before. I've read about people who could do it, control their own pain like that, but you're the only one I've ever met besides my mom who could do it." 

"Your mom?" 

"Yeah, Naomi. She used to get really bad headaches and then she dated this guy named Ray. He showed her how to meditate and concentrate, but it took weeks for her to get good at it. You just do it naturally." 

"Well, I've never done it before you, so thanks to you and this Ray person." 

"You're welcome. Want some lunch while you're feeling better?" 

"Maybe later. A beer would taste great though." 

Frowning, Blair shook his head. "Not while you're on drugs, man. How about some juice instead?" 

"God, you're worse than a keeper." 

"Thanks. Apple juice it is." 

While Blair got the drinks, Jim straightened the sheet around him as he talked. "Tell me about your mom." 

"Why?" 

The defensive tone brought his head up. "Why?" 

"Yeah, why? Why do you want to know about Naomi?" 

"Why wouldn't you want to tell me?" 

"No reason." Blair tucked his feet under him as he settled into the chair, his eyes avoiding Jim's. "She raised me by herself. She's great." 

"So where is she right now?" 

Shrugging, Blair drank half his drink before he answered. "I don't know." 

"You don't know?" 

"It's no big deal. She travels all over the world, Tibet, Russia, wherever." Looking out the window, Blair sat back, his body tense. "She'll call me or drop me a letter when she settles down long enough." 

"But what if something happens?" 

Blair looked back at him, his attention refocused. "Like what?" 

"You could get hurt, need medical attention. Who would they call?" 

"I figure they can call you." 

"But legally it has to be your mom or some kind of guardian. Do you have something like that set up while you're at school?" 

Solemn, Blair put down his glass and ran his hand through his hair. "What's this about, Jim? Are you worried about the age thing again?" 

"I'm just worried about you. I didn't plan on getting shot, but I did. You never know what can happen." 

Nodding, Blair covered his mouth for a few moments and then spoke quietly. "I've got a cousin Robert who lives in town. If something did go wrong, you could call him. He's got temporary guardianship while she's out of town. I'll write the number down later." 

"Okay." Drinking his juice, Jim waited until Blair finally asked what he expected. "So what about your family?" 

"None to speak of. My mom left when I was a kid. I left home when I graduated from high school and haven't been back since." 

"No contact at all?" 

"Nope, and don't want any." 

"Good thing you've got me then, huh?" 

"We've got each other, Chief." 

Smiling, Blair picked up his glass and raised it like a toast. "I'll drink to that." 

* * *

Jags game in the background, Jim sat on the couch watching Blair finish the dishes. Dressed in faded jeans and an oversized black sweatshirt that swallowed his body, he never stopped moving. Turning, Blair suddenly realized his audience. "Hey, man? Want anything?" 

"How about you sitting down and taking a break?" 

"I should probably finish reading that last chapter in genetics first." 

"It's Saturday night, Chief. You've got all weekend to get caught up. Are you going to start back to classes Monday?" 

"I guess." He drained the water from the sink as he spoke, his arms braced forward. 

"Your friend Suzie's been pretty good about getting your work, but didn't she say you had a guest speaker in your Anthropology class coming up?" 

Blair turned and frowned. "How did you know about that?" 

"What?" 

"The guest speaker?" 

"You were on the phone and she mentioned it." 

Scratching his head, Blair leaned back and crossed his arms, his face puzzled. "Yeah, she did, but I didn't. How did you hear that?" 

"I didn't mean to eavesdrop. You were just talking and I overheard." 

"I didn't think you were spying, Jim, but how could you hear Suzie when she's on the other end of the line?" 

Jim shook his head and shrugged. "I don't know. I just did." 

"Really? That's weird, man." 

"Not really. I just have really good hearing when it works." 

"What do you mean when it works?" 

"Never mind, Chief. Look, forget about all that. It's our anniversary." 

"Anniversary?" 

Smiling, Jim motioned for the younger man to come closer as he switched off the TV. "At this time last week you'd just come into Jamison's place." 

Blair wiped his hands and straightened the towel before stepping to the sofa and sagging down beside him. He kept his body separate, careful not to do anything jarring. "A week? Seems like a lot longer." 

Using his good left hand, Jim cupped the side of Blair's face, his voice hushed, more quiet. "Do you realize we've never actually kissed?" 

"I've kissed you." 

"Not when I could kiss back." 

Shyly, Blair took the back of Jim's hand and held it closer to his face, rubbing his cheek into the palm. The light burn of whiskers sizzled Jim's nerves, desire building. "Guess we should fix that." 

"Yeah, we should." Carefully, Jim leaned in, the slightest hitch in his side not enough to keep him from tasting those full lips that called to his hunger. Softer than he expected, a coffee-flavored mouth touched his, the slick heat vibrating with a low moan. 

Hands took the sides of his face as Blair pulled back, staring into his eyes, his pupils dilated. "I love you so much." Capturing his mouth again, Blair's tongue pushed in, the force overwhelming, the steamy rush spiking Jim's lungs, air a mere rumor. Light faded and then pulsed, the roar of blood in his ears building. Breaking it off, Blair stroked his cheek, his fingers teasing his temples and down his jawline as he closed his eyes and rested his head on Jim's shoulder. 

Hugging the younger man closer, Jim savored the contact, the warmth. How long had it been since anyone touched him like that? So long, he'd almost forgotten the language, almost erased the name of the only other man who ever loved him. 

"Let's go to bed, Chief." 

Blair lifted his head, his face eager and fearful. "I'm not really sleepy." 

"Me, neither, but I was thinking it was time I tackled those stairs, and I know that futon you've been using can't be all that comfortable." He gently pushed back a stubborn curl, his voice low and husky. "I just want to hold you." 

"What if I move the wrong way?" 

"You won't." 

"How can you be sure?" 

"I just am." Cradling the back of his head, he drew him closer, his tongue licking along his lower lip. "You ready?" 

"If you are." 

Blair got up first as Jim eased himself off the sofa's edge, careful not to pull his stitches. Walking slowly, he took his young man's hand while they moved upstairs. A cold sweat covered his skin by the time he reached the bed and sagged down on the mattress. Pulling back the covers, Blair helped him to lie down before stripping off his own jeans and sweatshirt, leaving only his boxers and tank top. Crawling in on his left side, he snuggled in close and covered them both with a blanket as Jim's arm wrapped around his shoulders and he whispered, "Cozy?" 

"Feels good." 

"Better than a futon?" 

"Way better. Sure I'm not hurting your side?" 

"You're on the only side that counts, Chief." 

* * *

Restful sleep left him slowly, the foggy range of vision clearing as he blinked several times and took a deep breath. Light musk and sweat scented the air, his own morning arousal layered with another. Heat radiated up his left side, Blair's body still connected, still burning up the air around him as he lay sleeping. Even breaths puffed and tickled his bare chest and every new exhalation ran a tingle directly to Jim's aching groin. His own erection tented his boxers, but Blair's stood strong and weeping through cotton as it pressed against his thigh. 

Regulating his own breathing, Jim swallowed hard and forced himself to remember his stitches as he pulled far enough away to see the face of the boy who loved him. Eyes shut, face relaxed and framed with dark chestnut curls, Blair enthralled him. The shadow of beard aged him, thank goodness, and chest hair fanned out over his nipples and down the middle, the hair line dark and furry below his navel. Carefully, he ghosted his palm over the defined lines of muscles and then touched him lightly, the hair fuzzy, his body energized by the contact. 

Blair stirred beside him, his knees pulling up, his soft moan an even stronger trigger to Jim's begging cock. A hand slipped between them, sliding down past the boy's own elastic, the strokes steady, his eyes still shut as he groaned. "Oh, god." 

Swallowing up the pleasure, Jim kissed him as Blair pumped himself with his own steady rhythm, his whole body rocking. Tongue wrestled tongue as both men sucked and shoved, twirled and taunted the other. A deep shudder and hoarse growl signaled the younger man's quick coming as he jerked against him, the smaller body sweat-slicked and suddenly stilled long seconds before finally relaxing beside him. 

"Jesus." 

"Like that?" 

"Oh, man." Breathing hard, Blair finally opened his eyes, pupils still dilated with excitement. "Thanks." 

"You did all the work, Chief." Smiling, he petted back the hair, his own cock still heavy. 

Blair smiled and licked Jim's chin before pulling back, his voice low and husky. "Let me suck you off." 

"What?" 

"You heard me. I've never done it, but I want to." 

"You don't have to do that." 

"I know I don't _have_ to, but I've been thinking about it. Dreamed about it last night in fact." A slow slide found Blair's hand down Jim's boxers, his fingers wrapping around the hard shaft, the contact electric. "I want to see what it's like to suck cock." 

Trembling, Jim hesitated as he stayed Blair's stroking hand. "You may not have time if you keep doing that." 

"Then we can save it for later." 

Leaning in, he licked and sucked Jim's left nipple as he renewed his previous effort. A sturdy hand gripped him, setting up just the right pressure, the perfect fist to thrust into. Head back, Jim's body swarmed with pleasure, the rush of heat flaming through his nerves, muscles tight, his thighs sweating. Hips and hand worked together, going faster, his bones stretched out, his mind flattened by flowing flickers bursting upward, fanning out to sizzle skin and marrow. 

Lightning splashed fire to his center, his cock riding its own demon. The bolt through his spine thundered through his brain, exploding with starlight too bright and blinding, his air dashed to ash and cinder. Mercy deceived him, his body heaving up with release, stunned by the delight of Blair's touch still controlling everything around him. 

Faint kisses deepened and awareness returned as Jim settled back into his body. Blair touched his face gently and whispered, his voice strained and worried. "You okay?" 

"Better than okay." Seeing the continued concern, Jim combed back the curls from his lover's forehead. "What's wrong?" 

"Do you always do that?" 

"Do what?" 

"Really get into it like that. You were gone, man. You wouldn't answer." 

Frowning, Jim shook his head, his body still sluggish from coming. "I'm sorry. I didn't hear you." 

"Is that what you meant before when you said you had really good hearing when it works? Are you saying your hearing doesn't work sometimes?" 

Taking Blair's hand in his, Jim kissed it, their mingled scents a smoky slickness. "I'm fine. I was just focused on how good it felt, that's all." 

"You sure?" 

"Positive." Pulling Blair back down against him, he waited until the younger man stretched out and then held him tighter. "You worry too much." 

"I just thought I'd hurt you." Carefully, Blair fingered the bandage. "Are you sure you're okay?" 

Squeezing his shoulders, Jim nodded, smug and relaxed. "Best Sunday wake up call ever." 

"Really?" 

"Really." 

"Cool." 

* * *

Blair finished the last wrap of the bandage and taped it off. "There." 

Jim reached for his shirt and watched the skilled hands clean up and smiled. "You'd be a great doctor." 

Stopping, Blair smiled as he cleaned up the area. "I'm going to be a doctor, but not of medicine. Give me primitive tribes over gross trauma any day. Speaking of gross, the wound is looking better. Going to be a hell of a scar though." 

"Probably." Buttoning up his shirt, Jim moved from the chair to the sofa and eased himself down. The pain, no longer constant, still announced itself with any too sudden movement. "Why anthropology?" 

"I don't know. I've just always enjoyed reading about and visiting different cultures." 

"So you want to travel?" 

"Sure. I apply every summer for whatever expedition I can get." 

"Is that how you got to go to Borneo and Chile?" 

"Yeah. I won scholarships for both." Blair washed his hands and stood at the end of the sofa before he spoke. "Does that bother you?" 

"What?" 

"The idea of me traveling?" 

Jim frowned as he rubbed his forehead. "I know it shouldn't." 

"But?" 

"But I'm thinking of how long summers can be when people are apart." 

Blair's face paled as he sat down, his voice solemn. "I'm sorry, Jim. I never even thought about that." 

"I know, and you shouldn't have to. Don't worry about it." 

"Summer is months away." 

"Like I said, don't worry about it." 

Before Blair could say anything else, Jim sniffed the air. "Cigar smoke? I think Detective Banks is here." 

"What? How can you know that?" The knock on the door interrupted Blair's question. "I'll get it." When he opened the door and saw Simon Banks, he looked back at Jim with amusement. "God, you're spooky." 

"Excuse me?" 

"Not you, detective. Jim." Directing him inside, Blair took his coat. "Thanks for putting out the cigar, man. Those things make me nauseous." 

"I know. I remember. You told me at the hospital when we were waiting for Ellison to surface." 

"Oh, yeah." 

Jim shook his head and motioned to Simon. "Ellison's over here, thank you. What can we do for you, detective?" 

More serious, Simon stepped closer and sat down in the chair across from Jim. "I thought you'd like to know we got the guy who shot you, a man named Lee Key Chan." 

"That's good to hear, but you could've called." 

"Yeah, I could've." 

Blair walked over, his knee up on the armrest as he spoke. "Want some coffee, Simon? I just made it." 

"Thanks." 

"Sure, man. Jim?" 

"Coffee sounds good, Chief." 

As Blair went back to the kitchen, Jim met dark eyes watching him closely. "So, detective, why are you really here?" 

Leaning in, his elbows on his knees, his face serious, Simon spoke quietly. "I've been having a real hard time with this whole situation." 

"What situation is that?" 

"You and the kid." 

Blair moved closer and handed him the mug. "Who are you calling a kid?" 

"You, Sandburg. Whether you like it or not, legally you're still a kid." 

"Fuck that." 

"Watch it, Chief." 

"I don't care what anyone says. I make my own decisions." 

"I know you do, but..." 

"But nothing, Jim. What we do is nobody's damn business." 

"I'm not fighting you on this. But settle down." 

"Why the fuck should I?" 

"Because I'm asking you to." 

Blair's fury faltered as he swallowed back his next few words. After a few moments he put Jim's cup on the coffee table and settled in beside him. "Okay, but I'm not listening to any bullshit about how it's better for me to be alone than with Jim." 

Simon spoke again, this time his voice softer. "I didn't mean to upset you, it's just I'm not sure I'm doing the right thing about not reporting this." 

"You said you wouldn't." 

"I know." 

Jim wrapped his arm around Blair's shaking shoulders. "It's okay, Chief." 

"I won't give you up, Jim." 

"You won't have to." Turning his attention back to Simon, Jim worked to keep his voice even. "Why haven't you done something already?" 

"I should have. I'm a cop. It's the law." 

"But?" 

"But if I report it, what's going to happen? He gets dragged through the system? What's that going to do?" 

"I'll run away before that happens." Blair's voice trembled, but the words flared with passion. "And I won't testify against Jim. It would wreck our lives and be a waste of court time and taxes." 

"I know that." 

"Then why even consider it, man? I don't get it." 

"Because he's a man with a moral dilemma, Blair." Both Simon and Blair stared at him while he continued. "Being a cop, he's sworn an oath to uphold the law, but in this case the law doesn't fit. He knows that as an individual, but as a cop, he's torn about what to do about it." 

"You've nailed it, Ellison. My wife thinks I'm keeping secrets about my love life because I haven't slept trying to figure out what the hell to do about you two." 

"Why do I think there's more to this story than just your indecision here?" 

Simon stood up, his large palm wiping his forehead and then cupping the back of his head as he paced in front of the window. "You're a good observer." Jim didn't answer, but simply waited for the story weighing down the other man's life. "Yeah, there's more here than just my view of the law. When I was fifteen, I was with someone older. We kept it quiet, of course, but she was a woman I used to do chores for. She was a widow, early thirties, and so incredibly lovely." 

"And lonely." 

"Yeah, and lonely. We'd talk when I came in for a drink after doing windows or the yard. She'd bake a cake and fix dinner. She liked to read to me and sometimes she'd play the piano and sing gospel. Her voice, man, her voice touched me." For a few moments, Simon paused, his eyes bright and focused on the past. He shook his head before he spoke again. "Anyway, that lasted the whole summer and into the fall. I really loved her." 

"What happened?" Blair's voice stressed the words, impatient for an answer. 

"My mother found out." 

"Shit." 

"I don't know what she did, but Estelle left town that week. I never heard from her again." 

"Oh, man, that sucks." 

Simon nodded as he looked at Blair and then at Jim. "I wouldn't trade that time with her for anything, and I really resented what happened. It took me a long time to forgive my mother. I mean, I knew she did it to protect me, but all it did was hurt everyone involved. The thing is, it comes back to the question is the law right in every situation?" 

Jim rubbed Blair's arm lightly as he asked, "And what's your answer?" 

"I don't think it is." 

Sighing in relief, Jim nodded. "I appreciate that." 

"Don't. It comes with a price tag." 

Head up, Jim's eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about?" 

"I've got the name of a shrink I want you to see." 

"A shrink? You're kidding." 

Blair shook his head in confusion. "Why do you think Jim needs a shrink?" 

"My first partner on the force was a guy named Eddie Michaels. Best cop I ever saw, but he was a vet with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. He'd be fine and then he'd have these episodes of depression or flashbacks. Almost lost his family and his job, but he went to this doctor and it helped. Even if you never try to be a cop, you can at least work through some of whatever it was you went through." 

Releasing Blair, Jim leaned forward, his eyes closed, his vision blurry. "What difference does it make to you?" 

"I don't know. Call it a gut instinct, but I think you could be a hell of a cop if you ever decided that's what you wanted." 

"A gay cop with an underaged lover. Yeah, right, Banks. That's some gut instinct." 

"He won't always be underaged and being gay, well, that social bias is changing." 

"I doubt that." 

"Just see the shrink, Ellison. It can't hurt." 

"I'll think about it." 

Nodding, Simon stayed still for a few more moments before heading for his coat. He pulled out a card and put it on the table. "I'll check back with you about your statements and trial date for the shooter." 

Blair got up and went to the door, his hands pushing back his curls. "Thanks, Simon." 

Hesitating, Simon touched his shoulder as he frowned. "I just hope I'm making the right decision." 

"You are, man. I love him and he loves me. What's wrong with that?" 

Without answering, Simon glanced over at Jim and then back at Blair's smiling face. "Just call me if you need anything." 

"Sure. Later." 

As he closed the door, Blair swallowed hard. "God, that was scary." 

"Yeah." Jim stared out the window, visions of rescuing social workers and do-gooders showing up at the door twisting his gut. "We need a plan, Chief." 

"What kind of plan?" 

"Something to cover our asses until you're old enough to tell people to fuck off for real." 

Nodding, smiling widely, Blair sat down beside him. "How about I'm the starving college boy and you're my best buddy helping out?" 

"Think they would buy that?" 

"I've got the room with the futon if anyone asks. Otherwise, we lock the doors and tell them to mind their own goddamn business." 

His voice softened and he drew Blair closer. "But is that good enough? Telling lies to get by?" 

"It's just a little embellishment, man. Nobody gets hurt and everybody's happy, or at least I am." Snuggling in closer, his body heat building, Blair teased Jim's lower lip with the tip of his tongue. "So, want to practice that best buddy helping out part again?" 

Kissing his young lover deeply, Jim enjoyed the fit of their bodies, their passion mingled as one. Despite all warnings, he surrendered to the winning of his heart, the victory of his soul being relinquished to the younger hand of reason. 

*************The End 

* * *

End Fit by Grey: Grey853@aol.com

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Disclaimer: _The Sentinel_ is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount. 


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